Thursday, July 9, 2009

Lucky.

Lost in an image, in a dream. But there's no one to wake her up. And the world is spinning and she keeps on winning. But tell me, what happens when it stops? And they say... she's so lucky. She's a star. But she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking, if there's nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night?

They say she's so lucky, but they don't know what lucky is. They're too self-absorbed, too self-centered to look past their own issues and see those of others. They think everyone else is perfect and only they are miserable. They're too wrapped up in their own world to view perfection as just a myth. They'll never see it like that because they'll never want to. They're too busy yearning for others' pity, for others' sympathy to realize that they're not the only ones who cry at night.

They'll blame her for not understanding, for not caring, for not listening but they'll never see that she too wants to be heard. Maybe she's just tired of listening and wants to speak. They judge her feigned smile as arrogance, and it never crosses their mind that she too finds it hard to be happy when her heart is broken beyond repair. She just wants the same sympathy that she always gives.

But her wants are in vein. Her sorrows are always inferior to their's. Her worries always dismissed. Her concerns mocked. How would she know what miserable is? She's so lucky. She's a star. How superficial they are. They think she's lucky just because she never wanted to burden others with her problems. How long can she keep it inside? She is human too and tries to share her misery. When she does, it sickens her to see that they are not burdened, but overjoyed by her problems. Ecstatic to hear about her pain.

They feed off the misery of others, these people. Always attempting to heigten their own self-esteem, to find reassurance for their own insecurities. Running from one person to the next, groveling for pity, no amount of reassurance is enough, they need more and more. Draining one person after another of their sympathy. It's sickening. They're a different class of conceited. They don't boast their accomplishments and successes in hopes of praise and adoration. No, they are much worse than that. They boast their failures and mistakes in hopes of condolences and commiserations.

In all of this they forget about others. It's always their problems that come first, their problems are always so much more important. They are too full of themselves to understand that they can never be heard unless they listen. She tries to explain, but they hate her even more for that. They don't even want to listen to her anymore. Their insecurities feed off pity, they have none to spare. No sympathy or pity to give for they feel they're the only ones who deserve it.

So they'll never know. Never know what the "lucky" go through. Never know that pain and suffering are universal. There is no superiority in pain. No one's problems should be more important than any one else's. They'll never understand that. They keep complaining to her and blaming her for not listening, when they are the ones who don't listen. They're too busy pitying themselves to see she is slowly dying on the inside and all the "luck" in the world can't stop that.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

There must be some kind of way out of here.

Lyin' on the floor. Surrounded, surrounded. Why'd you have to wait? Half the time the world is ending. Truth is I am done pretending. Too much time, too long defending. But it's time to face the truth, that it's too late to apologize, too late. I said it's too late to apologize, too late. Too late tonight to drag the past out into the light. We're one but we're not the same. You know what you want but how long can you wait?


Wait for you. If you think I'm fine, it just ain't true. Truth hurts. I got reason to believe don't stop believin'. Hold on to the feelin'. Where are those happy days? They seem so hard to find. Do you remember the time? Those sweet memories will always be dear to me. You wanna make a memory. You wanna steal a piece of time. You can't always get what you want.

You can't always get what you want. I was counting on forever, now I'll never know. I can't even breathe. Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air? If I should die before I wake, it's 'cause I don't want to fight, I'm tired of being sorry. And I got tired of waiting. Wondering if you were ever coming around. So don't you ever come around here. Don't wanna see your face, you better disappear. There must be some kind of way out of here.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Betrayal.

Day fades to night. 
Clouds blend into stars.
And nothing has changed. 
You're still the heartless soul you were yesterday. 
I'm still the pathetic fool I am today. 
When will I learn to let go?
Let go of the hope that you care. 
That you care about me just as much as I care about you. 
When will I learn to stop?
Stop expecting so much from you. 
I should've known from the beginning.
Known that all you care about is yourself. 
How could I have been so blind?
And not seen what was coming. 
I've been broken too many times. 
There's only so much betrayal my heart can take.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

It's Not Over.

I haven't posted in two weeks,
but it feels like it's been two months.
First semester is over.
A semester year of junior year is gone.
A semester I'll never live through again.
Not that I'd want to live it one more time.
But it's still not over.
There's still one more semester of this year.
And then two semeseters of senior year.
Then eight years in university.
When does it ever end?
Is it ever over?

Monday, February 2, 2009

Hold On.

Dear Clock,
Can you please slow down?
I can't keep up with you.
Sometimes you move so slowly,
and other times, so quickly.
I want this year to be over soon,
but I want more time too.
Can you please hold on?
I'm not ready yet.
Sometimes weeks feel like days,
and other times, days like years.
I want to move forward,
but I want to cherish the moment too.

I Don't Know

It's been more than a month since I last posted.
I just don't know what to write about anymore.
I have so many drafts waiting to be written,
but for some reason I can't pick up where I left off.
Looking back at my posts from sophomore year, I envy that girl.
That girl who had the time to reach within her heart and pour her soul out into words.
That girl who found comfort in writing.
That girl who felt required to post at least once a week.
I don't know where that girl went.
I can't seem to find her.
I hope she's still inside.
I hope I find her soon.
Because I don't know what I'll do without her.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

The Clock Strikes 12

The clock strikes 12.
So make a wish.

Wish those bad memories away.
Wish those good memories will stay.
Tomorrow will be another day.

Midnight is supposed to be magical.
Or so they say.
It’s past 12 and nothing’s different.

I’m sitting here, waiting.
Waiting for something to happen.
Waiting on the world to change.

Nothing’s happening.
Nothing’s changing.

Another year has come and gone.
I’ve accomplished nothing.
I won’t look back at 2008.

There’s nothing to look back on.
Nothing to feel proud of.
Nothing to remember.
Nothing to look forward to.
It’s all the same.

The clock strikes 12.
But I can’t make a wish.